Bressant

"Oh, if I only might!" sighed he; "but I've been nothing but a curse, so

far, to every one I've known!"

"Not so, either," returned his companion, with a smile so celestial that

Bressant knew at last it could be no other than the spirit of Sophie

herself that had been speaking to him. "You have shaken Professor

Valeyon's confidence in his wisdom and judgment, and the value of his

experience; you have made him realize that the more God has to do with

education the better; you have broken down Cornelia's self-complacency,

and shown her that a beautiful body cannot be safe or happy without a

soul to take care of it. Abbie has learned from you that love, and

generosity, and self-sacrifice, may all be worthless if they be founded

only upon individual grounds, to the exclusion of humanity; and Sophie

has been taught, by the love she has felt for you, to be humble and

charitable, and to see how easily self-interest and pride may be made to

look like zeal for others, and benevolence."

And then Bressant seemed to be conscious that Sophie was bidding him

farewell, but he could not see her nor touch her; he was shaken with

grief, and yet was filled with a strange kind of happiness, and a

feeling of resolute power. Gradually the influence of her presence faded

away, and he seemed alone.

Some one shook him by the shoulder. He looked up and saw the conductor;

in the background a lady and gentleman waiting to sit down. The car was

full of people.

"Come, sir," said the conductor, "you're a pretty big man, but you

didn't pay for more than one seat, I reckon. You've been sleeping-here

for more than a hundred miles; if you want to sleep any more I expect

you'd better get out and go to an hotel."

Bressant removed his feet from the extra seat, and, the conductor having

reversed it, the lady and gentleman took their places. As for the boy

with the green bag and the blue-spotted handkerchief, he was nowhere to

be seen; he must have left the train at a previous station.

The train had stopped, and Bressant, glancing out of the window, saw

that they were at some large railway-junction.

"How far are we from New York?" he asked of the conductor, with his hand

to his ear to catch the reply.

"Be there in two hours," shouted back that gentleman, in reply.

"When does the next train go through here in the opposite direction?"

"We're just awaiting for one to come along and give us the track--and

there she is now," returned the conductor, as he took his departure.

The whistle screamed malevolently, and, with a jerk and a rattle, the

car began to move off. Bressant rose suddenly from his seat, walked

quickly along the aisle to the door, passed through to the platform,

grasped the iron balustrade with one hand, and swung himself lightly to

the ground. The whistle screamed again like a disappointed fiend.